


a new sort of normal

by fluffysfics



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-it fic, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, soft time lords in love, the Master faces Consequences For His Actions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28033371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics
Summary: Together, the Doctor and the Master adjust to living on the same ship, sharing their lives, and to the consequences of taking a dangerous alien entity into a body it definitely wasn’t designed for.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 51





	a new sort of normal

The Doctor knew as soon as she woke up that today was going to be one of the bad days. 

The shaking always gave it away first. The way the Master had moved away from her as they both slept, and he was now curled as tight as he could get, shudders wracking his body every few seconds. He wasn’t awake; he never was, when she found him like this. She’d grown used to it, but that didn’t mean she had to _like_ it. 

“Koschei,” she said firmly. “Hey. Wake up.” That rarely worked, and it didn’t today, which meant she’d have to go for her usual, somewhat rougher methods. The Doctor sat up in bed, stifling a yawn, and gripped the Master’s shoulder. It was feverishly warm, and when she rolled him onto his back, his face and chest had an unhealthy grey tinge to them. 

“ _Koschei_!” This time, she practically shouted it into his face. She never liked doing that. But it worked- wide brown eyes snapped open, pupils contracted with sheer terror for several seconds before he seemed to realise where he was. 

“Koschei,” she said again, rather more gently. “That’s still all you in there, right?” The Doctor bit her lip as she waited for an answer. She’d never dare rush him, but the four and a half seconds it took him to nod still felt like an eternity. 

The first few times this had happened to him, it had been terrifying. She’d woken up to find the Master writhing in pain, and when she’d gotten him awake, it had been like he wasn’t even himself. Just some strange, animalistic being, incapable of anything except terror. 

Things had been getting better since then. But she was scared, always scared that the worse attacks would come back. He was scared too, she knew it. Ever since she’d gotten the Cyberium out of his head, he’d been quieter, more cautious; still very much himself, but _careful_. She wished he’d never been reckless enough to take it into himself in the first place. As much as she hated to say it, she was made of stronger stuff than him. His body hadn’t handled it half as well as hers had, let alone his mind. 

The Doctor lowered her head to his chest, wrapping a careful arm around his torso. The Master’s hearts were hammering so hard that she could _feel_ them as well as hear them. She closed her eyes, relaxing the walls around her mind and doing her best to project _comfort_. She’d done that for him a lot; her telepathy had always been a bit shoddy compared to his, but she was getting better. For his sake. 

Slowly, _slowly_ , the pace of his hearts returned to normal. When she opened her eyes again, the grey pallor had melted away from his skin. Back to normal, or at least whatever strangeness passed for normal these days. 

“Hi,” the Doctor said quietly. “How bad was that one?” 

“No worse than last time.” The Master sighed, rubbing his hands across his face. When he let them drop again, there were tears in his eyes. “It’s like- I can _feel_ it. I can feel the Cyberium in my head. Controlling me.” He brought a shaking hand to the side of his head, slowly closing it into a fist. “Crushing me. And it’s- it’s not in there. It’s _not_ , you’ve scanned me a hundred times. I watched you take it out of me. But I can feel it anyway.” He shuddered. 

“You say it’s getting better,” the Doctor pointed out. “Hopefully, it’ll be all gone one day. One day _soon_.” 

The Master pulled a face that clearly said he didn’t believe that, and closed his eyes. A couple of tears spilled out- he didn’t bother to wipe them away. 

It hurt her hearts to see him like this. On the good days, he was so _vibrant_ , so brilliant and fun and wickedly sharp. He could help around the TARDIS; he could cook for her, build with her, cuddle up and watch bad Earth movies with her. He was a match for her, in every possible way, and she adored him probably more than she’d ever be able to say out loud. He was the one who was good at words, not her. And he was _fantastic_ at words. 

Just not today. Today, the Doctor knew she’d be lucky to get him out of bed. 

She sighed, and sat up, gently pulling the blankets higher up around the Master’s torso. “Keep warm,” she murmured. “I’m going to make breakfast.” 

Normally, that would be enough to elicit a groan from him. She was a disaster in the kitchen- she saw nothing wrong with boiling eggs in lemonade, the stickiness was _fun_. And why put jam on toast and sugar in coffee when you could put the jam in your coffee, the sugar on your bread, and then toast it with a blowtorch? Caramelised toast was an excellent invention, in her books. The Master did not agree. 

But today he just hummed a vague agreement as she got dressed, and burrowed under the covers entirely. The Doctor swung her coat over her shoulders, resting a protective hand on the lump under the blankets. “Don’t worry, Kosch. I’ll look after you.” 

He mumbled something unclear in response, nudging a telepathic pulse of affection in her direction. Even when he felt like this, he tried to be good to her, and the Doctor appreciated that more than she could say. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and hurriedly left the room to go and make them both something to eat.

In the kitchen, she had to lean back against the countertop and take a few deep breaths. When she’d offered to bring the Master on board, she hadn’t expected this. She’d expected a semi-unwilling prisoner for at least a few months, and then _maybe_ they could think about friendship. 

When he’d first entered her ship, he’d spent six hours sitting sulkily on the steps in her console room before he’d collapsed in a fit, shaking and moaning and so cold and grey that he might well have been a corpse. Doing her very, very best not to panic, the Doctor had dragged him to the medbay and forcefully extracted the Cyberium from him, using a slapdash process involving electromagnets that was a lot less delicate than she’d wanted it to be. 

After that, the Master’s demeanour had changed rather a lot. He’d spent a couple of days mostly sleeping, and she’d stayed by his side. The first time he’d woken up, his only request had been that she get into bed and hold him for a while. The way he’d asked had been so vulnerable, so small and scared, that the Doctor couldn’t have said no if she’d tried. 

That phase had lasted a week. And then, just as he’d been returning to his old snarky self, the relapses had started. 

Shuddering, the Doctor wrenched herself away from the countertop to get started on breakfast. She fried two eggs, and completely solidified the yolks, and burnt the bottom of one of them. She put that one on her plate. Toast was next- she went for her fun caramelised sugar idea on her own two slices, but reluctantly went through the normal ‘put them in the toaster’ method for the Master. Coffee seemed like a bad idea when he was already in such a state, so she made them both tea instead, considered the pot of jam, and then dumped a couple of spoonfuls of it into her cup. 

Piling everything onto a tray, she brought it back to the Master, and carefully set it on the bed. “Hi again,” she announced, and then frowned. “Oh. I forgot knives and forks for the eggs. Cooking is _complicated_ , Kosch.” 

“That’s why you normally let me do it,” he mumbled from under the blankets. She heard a long sigh, and then he slowly extricated himself from them, struggling up into a sitting position. He studied the breakfast tray. “Those eggs are practically rubber, love. I’ll just put mine between the toast. Sandwich.” 

The Master picked up his plate, assembling the sandwich, and slowly started to eat. He didn’t seem much like he wanted to at first, but the hot food did put a little more colour back in his cheeks. 

He was halfway through his sandwich when the Doctor realised that she’d just been staring concernedly at him, and not actually eating her own food. Mirroring him, she made a sandwich with her fried egg, only remembering the sugar she’d put on her toast when her sandwich _crunched_. Oh. Huh. That was actually kind of nice. 

“You’re disgusting,” the Master said, sounding awfully fond about it. She smiled brightly, because hearing him insult her eating habits was a good sign. It was a very _him_ thing to do, and that was what she always missed when he was in the middle of another relapse. 

“Drink your tea,” was all she said, eyeing both of the cups. A small lump of jam floated to the top of one. She pushed the _other_ one over to the Master. 

He set down the remains of his egg sandwich, picking up the cup. For several seconds, he just stared at it. That went on long enough that the Doctor was slightly worried that she’d committed some horrible tea sin, but he broke the silence first. 

“I...I don’t like that you have to do this,” he said, not taking his eyes off of the cup of tea in his hands. The cup shook slightly. “Looking after me, I mean. It’s not...not _fair_. On you. Not after what I did, what I’ve done. _Everything_ I’ve done. To the universe, to _you_... I’m being ridiculous. I...” He trailed off, shaking his head. There were tears in his eyes, and he was still staring at his tea. 

“Assuming you’re not actually talkin’ to your cup,” the Doctor said quietly, “I don’t _have_ to be doing this. Do I? I mean- it’s my TARDIS. My egg sandwiches. My bed you’re moping in. Could just kick you out.” 

The Master looked up at her, looking rather like he wanted to cry, and didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The ‘why haven’t you just done that, then’ was written all over his face. 

“I’m not gonna,” she said, like it was the most obvious fact in the world. To her, it was. She felt a responsibility for the Master, yes, but that wasn’t the end of it. That hadn’t ever been the sole extent of her feelings. “I’m really not gonna. I care about you too much. Or- or, just the right amount. I care about you just the right amount. And I don’t know what that amount is- I guess it’s all arbitrary, you know, but I care a lot, and I know it’s the right amount because this feels- this feels so _right_. It’s a sort of normal and I like it. And one day you’re not gonna be in pain anymore and things are still gonna feel right and then- and then things will be _good_.” 

The Doctor took a slow, shuddering breath. She didn’t do emotions. And that had just been a lot of them all at once. She brought her jam-tea to her lips, and drained the cup in a few quick gulps. Then, she nodded firmly. Standing by the rush of words that had just poured out of her. “Drink your tea, Koschei.” 

The Master was staring at her like he’d just seen a ghost. To be quite honest, hearing her get emotional was probably rarer even than a ghost sighting. He obediently raised the teacup to his lips, only to pull a face and carefully set it back on the tray. 

“Too much milk,” he announced, still staring at her. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again, deep brown eyes shining with tears. He looked immensely vulnerable without his clothes, without his smile. And it was an absolute privilege, the Doctor decided, to be allowed to witness him. 

She moved closer, pushing the tray aside so that she could lift both hands to cup his face. “I know your head’s all funny. You don’t have to say anything ‘til it passes. Later, tomorrow, whenever. Actually, you don’t have to say anything at all. Even if I did pour my hearts out a bit. Don’t do that often. Look- my point is. There’s not any conditions on me wanting to look after you. I said, when I was a kid, that I wanted to see the stars with you. Still do, if you do too.” 

The Master let out a shaky sigh. The way he was gazing at her reminded her of how soft he’d looked when he’d first had her trapped in the paralysis field, his manic enjoyment of the situation undercut by pure tenderness. Now, it was just the tenderness, just the adoration and appreciation and _love_ , and it was so intense that the Doctor had to bury her face in his shoulder. 

She heard the faint clatter of plates as the Master put his egg sandwich back on the tray, and then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto the bed. As soon as she lay down, he tangled every one of his limbs around her as tightly as he could. Honestly, the Doctor was more than happy to do the same in return. 

“...Stay with me,” the Master said, his voice coming out rough and tired. “Right here. I’ll...I’ll get around to talking properly eventually. For you.” 

The Doctor almost said that doing things _for her_ wasn’t great, that he should be recovering for himself more than anything else. But she knew firsthand just how hard that could be. She’d once spent ages brooding on a cloud and only come down for Clara Oswald, after all. 

So all she did was hug him a little tighter, and press her lips against his forehead, and murmur in the Master’s ear. “You’ll get better, Kosch. I know you will. And we’ll get you there together.” 

It took a minute, but nothing had made her so happy in at _least_ the last week as when the Master lifted his head and nodded- a small gesture, but one that was confident. _Firm_. 

They would be okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy I got stuck on this fic for DAYS, so I hope it came out well?? I’m pretty happy with the final product I think, but comments and kudos are extra appreciated <3


End file.
